Evening Gray and Morning Red
by ZFiction
Summary: "Evening red and morning gray, send a traveler on his way. Evening gray and morning red, brings the rain upon his head." It started out with just a sprinkle over West Block. {In progress. May become romantic. Taking requests.}


Day 1

If anyone had glanced at their watch just as the rain started, they would have told you it started at 11:48. But of course, those who had watches didn't bother to record the time the rain started. Who would? It was just a little shower. That's all.

Or maybe it was a bit more of a storm. So much so that Eve walked to the entrance of the theatre instead of the back door to her dressing room. She had three men offering her umbrellas before she even got a foot out the door, just like she expected. She only accepted two.

An hour later, Nezumi arrives at Inukashi's place, just in time for Shion's shift to end. He's walking around with an arm full of puppies, trying wash off muddy pawprints and calm the frightened whimpering as thunder crackles somewhere nearby.

"You can stay a few extra minutes, can't you? It's a madhouse in here," Inukashi says warily to Shion when she sees Nezumi, trying in vain to pet three distraught looking dogs at once.

Nezumi jumps in before Shion gets the chance to open his mouth. "It'll only rain harder the longer we wait. We're going now." Really, he just wants to sit and listen to it come down. There's another burst of thunder as Shion nods and readies himself to leave, catching the umbrella Nezumi throws at him.

"Good luck, Inukashi!" He calls, sounding a bit too warm-hearted for Nezumi's comfort. He scoffs.

"Just come on, I'm starving." And out into the rain they step, each under the protection of a ratty free umbrella.

It isn't unpleasant, really. There is a little much of it, the rain, to the point of being just a bit overwhelming, but Nezumi has to admit it makes him a bit… nostalgic? Wind tears at their clothes and roars in their ears, so they say very little, and Nezumi is grateful. It is nice enough just to hear the steady patter, the sloshing of water in gutters, and smell the rain in the air. If course, it isn't a terribly clean smell, as the virtually everything in West Block is old and dusty and foul to begin with, but it gives the usual odor a refreshing new tinge. There isn't the same annoying overcrowding, nor the characteristic feel of impending danger. There are many shadows in which to lurk, but few would be out in this weather, and their wet footsteps would give them away. It's lovely, really.

It ends almost too quickly, but Nezumi can't complain. The water must be nearly three centimeters now, and it's coming down harder and faster and colder, seemingly with each visible breath. It'll be more enjoyable from the inside listening out. He grins a bit at the thought.

Nezumi unlocks the door to their underground hideout before he notices Shion is still a few paces back, staring up with an inquisitive expression. "Something wrong?" Nezumi asks, more loudly than he intended.

Shion only shakes his head, gazing one moment longer before turning and following Nezumi to the doorway. "Airhead." The wood is moist and sticks in the doorframe; it takes a couple good shoves on Nezumi's part to get open. Warmth hits him like a punch in the face as he steps cautiously inside, shutting the door behind Shion. "Drop your wet clothes before you step in to far, will you?"

For Shion, that means most of his clothes, so he's all the way down to his underwear until Nezumi makes an unimpressed grunt and tosses him some spares. They're barely more than rags, but it's better than walking around soaking wet.

"You're awfully quiet today," Nezumi observes, wondering why he cares when the relative quiet is an interesting change of pace. He lights a couple candles to disguise the smell of moist house, moist books, moist robotics, moist everything, and turns to find Shion clutching the mice to his chest.

"I guess I am. Just remembering things, I guess, and appreciating the rain. I've always appreciated the rain."

"But usually you're not so quiet about it, if I recall correctly, your majesty."

Shion flushes at the reference to that memory of the day they met. "That was like one time!" He says after a pause, sounding defensive.

"_Like?_" He says, smirking in amusement. They both end up sinking into the couch, just taking a moment to breathe, before Shion stands again and takes slow step towards the kitchen. Something about this rain is equal parts calming and draining, it seems.

"I'm going to start dinner. You said you were hungry, right?"

"Starved," Nezumi says gratefully, shutting his eyes for a moment. He lets out a deep sigh. Maybe it's the extra hours he's been putting in, just because he is bored, or maybe it is having an extra houseguest to protect, or maybe it is just the time of year, but life has just been so.. exhausting, lately. He needs to take more time to relax.

Not that there's much relaxing done in West Block. In fact, Nezumi wonders how many times he's truly been at ease in his entire life. There are always worries. Where's his next meal? His next attacker? And although now he has even more to worry about than ever with Shion around, and that very fact throws him off his usual rhythm, something about that freaking airhead makes him want to take a deep breath and just, well, relax. It's kind of lovely and kind of disgusting, so he just takes deep breathes and sniffs the freaking candle air.

It's a shame he doesn't have any wine about now.

"Here," Shion says suddenly. Frighteningly enough, Nezumi didn't notice him approach. But there he stands, two bowls of porridge in hand, a goofy smile on his face. Nezumi mutters a thank you and takes the bowl, allowing the warm, smooth concoction to run down his throat.

"You're getting better at this," Nezumi says then, motioning the bowl through the air.

"Thank you, Nezumi!" Shion says, sounding surprised at the praise. "You're in an interesting mood."

"Yeah, well, I'm an interesting man." Shion giggles slightly. "What?"

"I don't know, it's just fun to see you like this," he says, taking another scoop of his own dinner.

"I'm glad you're amused, your majesty, but I'm not doing anything too special," Nezumi says simply. He finishes in one final gulp and sets his bowl on the table in front of him. "I'm starting my bath. Make sure you put over the leftovers, will ya—shit! Shion! I thought I told you to take off your dripping clothes," he says, nearly slipping and falling on a small puddle on the hard floor. It shouldn't be that easy to trip him up, either, which makes him gain back a bit of his characteristic edge. So much for trying to calm himself. It was foolish to think he could just ignore his role in their survival, anyway. Not that a puddle would kill them, but the principle remains, and with every passing second, his ease of mind falls away.

"I did, I did! Did you slip?"

"No, a tiger bit me. Of course I—" Drip. Nezumi pauses. Looks up.

"The ceiling is leaking," Shion concurs the unsaid sentiment.

"Shit." That's it, all hope for relaxation and peace of mind are gone. Not that it was realistic, but one night of simple delusion in memory of childish days would have been nice. A little romantic, even.

Nezumi sighs and grabs his bowl from the table, setting it over the puddle and watching one, two, three drops settle into it. Good enough for now. "Tell me if you find any more," he says, and feels bitterly ironic about going to sit in a much bigger bowl of water.

"Six," is the first thing he hears when he comes out, not even having gotten a shirt on.

"Huh?"

"I found six more leaks. Four ceiling, two wall."

"Well, that's just fucking great. Did you deal with them?"

"Of course, but we're almost out of bowls and things now."

"Fantastic." Nezumi takes long, irritated steps to the front door, wanting to check the progression of the storm. That's until he realizes one of the wall leaks _is _the front door, with spare fabrics and cups placed around the streams of water flooding in. It's steady up a good four inches or so, meaning opening the door would mean flooding the entire kitchen with dirty, smelly, unstoppable flood water. Nezumi spits another curse and saunters away.

"Are you okay?" Shion asks from a few feet back, and Nezumi can hear the furrow in his eyebrows, the concern in burning red eyes.

"Oh yeah, I'm super. I was worried the nice little storm clearing my head would be too good for my psyche, so I'm feeling much better now that I know that's no longer an issue. As a bonus, I get to use my gills for the first time in ages. What's not to be pleased about?"

"Come on, I'm being serious."

"Shion, you've seen the dirt in West Block, haven't you? It's thick, it's dense, it's resilient. That water isn't just going to absorb. We're stuck for a day, at least." Nezumi says, gritting his teeth in annoyance. He hated being trapped. Hated it, hated it, hated it. But more than anything, he's disappointed that his momentary dream of a nice evening is ruined, and mad at himself for dreaming it in the first place.

Nezumi watches as Shion's eyes grow, the magnitude of the situation exploding in his eyes. He opens his mouth but doesn't a couple times, before finally saying in a great flurry of words, "There are no rain gutters, there are no flood gates. We _are_ the flood gates. It's not like in No. 6 where security takes care of its citizens. They aren't going to drain the streets. We're going to die."

"Now you're being overdramatic, Shion. It will be tough, but we probably aren't going to die. I've been through worse."

"We're not? Water drowns. Water electrocutes. Water breaks gas lines. Water scares animals. Water traps. Water destroys buildings. Water rots wood. Water taints meat, and right now it stands between both our jobs and any supplies we would buy with money from those jobs. We are going to die in this flood."

"Shion!" Nezumi shouts in response, gripping Shion's shoulders as his voice grows louder and louder and he stares off somewhere into the horrors of his imagination. "Look, it probably won't be easy but we're going to think through this, alright? You're right, we don't have Big Brother Moondrop to protect us, but it's just day, two maximum. It'll be unpleasant, and we'll probably end up very hungry, but we'll survive. As long as you don't drive me to kill you in your sleep, we'll live."

Shion seems centered somehow by the words. "Do you promise, Nezumi?"

And Nezumi could laugh, really, he could, at Shion making him say this, but he humors the romantic airhead and replies with, "I promise, Shion, that I will keep us alive."

Thunder crashes tauntingly as Nezumi releases Shion's shoulders and takes a step back, to cross his arms over his chest. "Well," he sighs shallowly, "It's been an interesting day. I'm going to bed. Change the bowls before you go to bed."

And Shion does. Nezumi knows because he's awake thirty minutes later to hear Shion do it. It's not so unusual, he tells himself, as he often can't fall asleep before Shion. The presence of another person keeps a few of his instincts active, so he can't drift into the vulnerability of sleep before them, whoever they happen to be. Yeah, it's those instincts.

And forty-five minutes after that, he tells himself it's the pattering sound of that rain drip drip dripping into all of the containers. And Shion's gentle breathing is loud snoring keeping him awake. And he's always been an insomniac and he's thinking about the past and a he begins counting ridiculous excuses the way any other would sheep.

When at last he's washed into sleep, he dreams of drowning.

**To Be Continued.**

* * *

A/N: _Probably._ But it won't be terrible long. I apologize for OOC, I've been out of the fandom and suffering from writer's block a while. Please let me know what you think, including harsh critique. Thank you in advance! Taking requests for No. 6. (Next Corrupted chapter to be released after this lovely fic breaks me back into the feel of things.) ~ZFiction


End file.
